


Contained

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Series: Indulgence [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has to be restrained during an op. Unfortunately, Hawkeye's observational skills are as sharp as ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contained

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [prompt list](http://desert-neon.tumblr.com/post/81753304099/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you-a).
> 
> Lapillus asked for number 14: _tying up the other_.
> 
> There is a mention of the word “shameful.” The author would like to point out that _Phil_ feels that way. She herself chooses to embrace her kinks proudly, and encourages others to do the same.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

Phil lifted his arms above his head, placing them together against the pipe. “It’s all right, Barton. I understand. Until we know what the full effects are, containment is wise.”

Clint stepped over him, one foot on either side of Phil’s outstretched legs, and leaned forward to secure Phil’s wrists. “I don’t like this,” he muttered quietly, but Phil heard him anyway.

The thing was, _Phil_ liked it. A little too much. Not so much right at this moment, and not in terms of the mission, but, in general, the idea of Clint tying him up was not an unwelcome one.

Phil turned his head, facing away from the crotch in his face. No need to go there. “A necessary precaution though,” he reminded his agent. “Just until the team can sweep the building and backup and medical arrive. I’ll be fine.”

Clint stepped back and crouched, his hands running over Phil’s legs. He smirked at Phil as he removed the knife strapped to his calf, the one the drug had warped Phil’s mind into denying he had.

“My back,” Phil gritted out, determined to say it before the serum robbed him of that too.

Clint looked surprised but leaned in gamely, his hands slipping up under Phil’s suit to feel for hidden weaponry. He emerged with another, bigger knife, and Phil tried not to mourn the loss of contact, the body heat radiating from Clint. “Anything else, sir?”

Phil shook his head.

“Is that the truth, or do I have to do a full frisk?”

“Barton,” Phil snapped, because the alternative was groaning or whining, and neither would be acceptable.

“Okay, okay,” Clint said with a laugh, hands half raised in surrender. “Just checking. You’re secure, right?”

Phil pulled at the binding, testing its strength. It was Stark tech, so of course it held. Phil was more concerned about the old, rusted pipe. He strained for a moment, trying to dislodge it from the wall, but was unsuccessful.

Hopefully his slightly elevated breathing and pulse rate would be seen as natural in these circumstances, and not a byproduct of . . . anything else.

“I’m good. Go join the others. The sooner the building is clear, the sooner this is over.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, no. You said it yourself, sir: the building isn’t clear. I’m not leaving you like this when someone might find you.”

“We’ve eliminated the immediate threat, Barton,” Phil argued. The last thing he wanted was for Barton to stay in the room with him like this. “The people that are still here are just worker bees who didn’t even know what they’d gotten into.”

“Still. You’re tied up and unable to defend yourself,” Barton said, and the words sent a shameful thrill up Phil’s spine. Barton pointed at himself with a sharp thumb. “Not. Leaving.”

Fuck Phil’s life. Just fuck it.

“Fine. Then watch the door.” At least that way Clint wouldn’t be looking right at him.

Clint’s eyes narrowed, and Phil knew he was in trouble. Hawkeye saw everything. Famous for his keen observations regarding the physical (jumping skin at pulse points, deep, even breaths in a bid for control, clenched fists and slightly dilated pupils), he was just as adept at putting those observations together and coming up with the most plausible explanation or scenario (Phil was turned on. He was _so_ turned on). Phil kept his face blank and consciously relaxed his hands, but Clint grinned sharply anyway. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Barton.”

Clint reined in his grin, making it softer and more understanding. He patted Phil’s shin then stood and turned his back, watching the door as requested. Phil breathed a near silent sigh of relief.

“Just so you know, sir,” Clint said into the still air a few minutes later. “You’re not the only one who finds the idea of you being tied up appealing.” He looked over his shoulder and added, “You know, in _other_ situations,” with a flirtatious wink.

This time Phil had to bite his lip in an effort not to groan.

Clint saw it, and his face lit up before he turned back to face the entrance.

Phil was in so much trouble.


End file.
